


The Sun Has Risen

by Typewriters



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fever Dream, Sadness, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typewriters/pseuds/Typewriters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dreams cannot last. He knows that. The harsh, unfriendly waking world is waiting for him. His mother, who wants him to be someone he has driven away. The rebels, who want information he will not give. And a dark haired girl who probably wants him dead, not watching the stars with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun Has Risen

**Author's Note:**

> I've gone a little crazy.

He dreams the sort of the dreams you’d expect, lying in the blood soaked snow. 

Dark and terrible and filled with shadowy figures he chased like smoke. 

And her voice. Faintly. ‘We can’t just let him die.’ 

It was her touch he recognized, so senseless that pain and time began to bleed together into a swirling black blue galaxy, the stars slowly going out. Inexplicably bound. Dark and Light. She does not let go for a long time. He is no longer in the snow.

His dreams begin to hold faces. 

His mother’s. He is a child again, in her arms, her steady voice softly singing a lullaby, soothing him back into the darkness. He has not seen her in many years. 

Her voice is deeper, now, as she holds his hand and mumbles the half-forgotten lyrics, angry tears falling, torn in hatred and love for her only child. 

He doesn’t know how much her hands are shaking, or how she stays with him through the first night when everyone else was asleep. 

“It’s been a week. What if he never wakes up?” 

Rey sounds so tired. “Shhh. He can hear you.” 

“How can you know?” 

“I know. I know it. I don’t think he wants to, yet.” 

If she were in his shoes, she wouldn’t wake up, either. 

He visits her sands in his dreams. Running behind her in the swirling heat, her hair loosening from its bindings, striking his face when she turns to look at him. He thinks she mouths his name, but her lips make no sound.

After the sun sets, he spends an eternity gazing at the stars and her dark shadow sitting close beside him in the dunes. 

The dreams cannot last. He knows that. The harsh, unfriendly waking world is waiting for him. His mother, who wants him to be someone he has driven away. The rebels, who want information he will not give. And a dark haired girl who probably wants him dead, not watching the stars with her. 

The hazy night passes slowly, and he doesn’t want the sun to rise, because he has to leave her here. Leave peace, leave emptiness. 

Rey doesn’t want him to leave his sleep either, sitting in the darkness, her trembling fingers curled against his palm. Why is he so beautiful to her in the streaky three a.m light?

She leaves come the morning, and she doesn’t know when she’ll be back. 

She should hate him. He has bound her. Fought her. Killed his own father. But she cannot, because she knows despair. She knows what it is to live in fear and to live alone. To wield a gift never asked for. 

If he opened his eyes now, maybe she would have seen the starlight in them. 

She feels the sun dawning and the dread welling inside her chest. Luke’s lightsaber is heavy in her pocket. 

Standing, she allows herself to brush his hair back. 

Goodbye, she thinks. Goodbye. 

She’s already turning away when his hand catches her wrist, firmly, and tugs. 

Her breath dies on her lips when she meets his eyes. 

What could either of them say? 

He nods. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice catching. His eyes are not angry. Only sad. 

For one moment, she returns the pressure to his hand. Lets her fear and anger and loneliness flood their fingers. Because he has the force too. And he knows like the others cannot. 

And then, she is gone. 

The sun has risen, and the man is back in the shadows. 

As perhaps he might always be.


End file.
